Break in these bones
by rookieD
Summary: (Post 4.13). Andy's late shifts never go quite to plan.


_A/N: Some sexual themes ahead, not enough to be M. I don't think._

_Disclaimer: I don't own Rookie Blue._

* * *

Andy pushes the key into the lock, unlatches, and opens the door; quiet as she can, but not too quiet. Not so quiet that Sam or his neighbors might think it's an intruder...or someone else that isn't her.

She turns and lets the door snick shut behind her, pauses in the dark of the hall. The last four evenings she's arrived to a noisier and brighter version of Sam's house; sounds of the TV, Oliver's voice, or both. Mind you, on those evenings she'd arrived 3-4 hours earlier than what it is now.

She worries for a long moment; maybe she shouldn't be here tonight. She's practically moved herself in up to this point; maybe she should give Sam some space. And time. Yep, time and space, between Andy, Oliver, and the rest of 15 trying to tend to his needs, there's every chance Sam might want a few days just to himself –

Still, one of the last things he said to her when she left him at lunchtime was "See you tonight?"

And she is on a late shift after all, it's not like Sam would've been expecting her a whole lot earlier than this. Plus, he's seemed happy to see her every other day. Really happy, now she comes to think of it…

There's a faint smell about the house that suggests he's been cooking. She can't quite make out the spices…Mexican, maybe? Sam has made her tacos before. When they were together before. Post-Temagami McSwarek is how she refers to it on occasion. (Sam raises his eyebrows whenever she says it, but it's in a fond sort of way). Anyway, the point is that he's also been watching a lot of cooking on television lately, so she guesses he's tried out a new trick -

Her stomach growls.

She considers a detour via the kitchen to have a look in the fridge. Not that she's getting ahead of herself, but she's fairly certain he would have made extra for her. She decides to resist the temptation though. Her tastebuds can wait.

She takes her boots off on the spot, figuring it's best to go forth softly in case Sam's asleep. As much as she'd like to ask him about his day, she kind of hopes he is in a deep slumber. He hasn't slept 7 hours straight since he got home, and she doubts his hospital snoozing was fantastic either. Not that he's ever blatantly admitted to that.

("Go back to sleep," he whispers every night after he's stirred so much it's woken her up. His warm hand pets down her side, as though she's the one that needs to be soothed.

It could be nightmares, but he insists it's not.

"You promise?" she asks every morning. "Because if it is, we should talk about it. I can help you, okay?"

And every morning he holds her hand, stroking a thumb over her anxious knuckles. "Andy. It just still hurts to shift." He kicks at her shin gently under the kitchen table and grins. "No bad dreams with you by my side. I promise."

And every morning she falls a little more in love with him. Can't wipe the goofy smile off her face for the rest of the day).

Andy pads down the hallway to the living room now, not bothering to turn on any lights. She knows her way well enough, and her eyes are starting to adjust to the dark. She pokes her head in the living room, checks that he hasn't fallen asleep on the lounge like he did yesterday. The only thing she can see that doesn't belong there is an exercise ball. She rolls her eyes. No doubt he's been on it during 'breaks' from his rehabilitation schedule. She sighs; Detective Swarek is taking the recovery process to it's extreme. Leaving no stone unturned.

She takes her coat and hat off, carefully places both on the arm of the lounge. Then turns on her heel and makes her way up the stairs.

His bedroom door is open, which –

Convenient. (It's a creaker, so if she had to push, it'd wake him up.)

She leans on the jamb for a while to think about what her next movements should be.

She takes in his appearance while she's at it. He's lying on top of the covers in a t-shirt and sweats. It's the same uniform he was in when she left him for work earlier today. Which means he probably didn't make it to the shower tonight. And because of the fact she knows he would've done a bunch of exercise, she screws up her nose. Not that she minds when Sam's sticky and sweaty. At all. Her problem has more to do with how his muscles might cope.

He's breathing. She can tell. Which is quite the feat given the position he's in: on his stomach, legs slightly apart, and one arm hanging over the edge of the bed.

She lets out some air of her own, relieved. Just like she has been every day since she's known him. (More so since he got shot… in front of her very own eyes, no less).

She smiles broadly at all the space that he's left vacant. It's obviously for her to take up. He always was considerate when it came to that type of thing. She takes a moment to imagine herself pouncing into it from here; a dive roll on that firm mattress of his. Of course, now is not a good time to test out the springs.

She grins at his face; scruffy cheek smashed against the pillow. She makes a mental note: when Sam is fully recovered, she's going to jump all over his bed and show him she could be a world champion pillow fighter. She's sure he won't mind any challenge she serves up to him -

Her heart and stomach do a funny thing as she makes out the fact that his mouth is open and eyes closed -

She hopes their babies get those eyelashes of his.

He could be mistaken as angelic – if it weren't for the things she knows that he's capable of.

For a brief second she considers her need to go to the toilet, but she's compelled to stay. Doesn't want to leave him. So, she shuts down the call of her bladder and walks around to the side of the bed, picking up a blanket that has slipped onto the floor.

She plants one of her knees into the spot that will be hers on the mattress, testing. Then she sets about carefully placing the bulk of the blanket on top of Sam, before she climbs all the way onto the bed and makes sure she's covered as well.

The only thing wrong with the situation really is that he's not facing her anymore. She watches the back of his head for a while, noting how his hair sticks up in about fifteen different directions. He's been tossing and turning, is what Andy thinks here. (Has been in a general state of discomfort since he woke up at the hospital, she can always tell just by the set of his jaw). She's actually surprised he's asleep at all.

She leans in to give the back of his skull a very soft kiss. Lingers maybe longer than she should; just taking in _him_.

She then rests her arm across his back; just under his shoulder blades to give him the best half-hug she can, all the while pulling herself in closer to nestle into his side.

"How was shift?" Andy hears him murmur, in that attractive, sleepy voice thing that he does.

So, not so asleep after all.

She smiles, then feels selfish about that. Kisses at the neck of his shirt. "Sorry I woke you," she whispers.

She feels his muscles start to shift under her arm, and before too long he's done a rotation that has his front facing her way. His nose bumps at hers while he kisses her light on the lips. "I'm not."

Andy smiles again, unable to hold still the butterflies that have been hassling her stomach for a number of days again now.

She runs some fingertips with excruciating care down his sternum. Sucks in some air when she knows she's hovering over his wound. "My afternoon was...vacuous," she murmurs, eyes unconsciously drifting down to look at the spot her hand is above. "How about yours?"

Sam laughs through his nose. "Vacuous, huh?" He puts the fingers of one of his hands in a pistol grip and places it gently over her jaw and chin, tips her face so she's looking back up. "That rookie of yours a pain in the ass?"

Andy purses her lips, knows exactly where Sam will take this if she lets him. "You don't _understand_, Sam," she whines, scratching a little just underneath his navel. "Wait until you meet him before you go saying he's like _I_ was back then."

Sam laughs again. This time out of his mouth. It's a beautiful sound.

Andy kicks her foot out at his leg on reflex, and rubs it a few inches up the back of his calf.

He puts the palm of his hand on her hip, holding her still. "Oh, I'm fairly certain he's nothing like you," he tells Andy, voice so low and deep the sound sinks into her bones.

(This up close and personal chit-chat and heavy petting is about as far as they've got with their make-outs so far. Her not wanting to bust his stitches, Sam so exhausted he nods off in her arms. –

And both of them still so careful with one another in trying to _fix_ everything...)

She wraps her leg around Sam's and grins at him. "Tell me about _your_ day," she demands, her hip rolling to nudge up against his. She's definitely flirting. Curious about how far they might be able to take things tonight. She moves her hand back up his chest and over his shoulder. "Oliver bring you some afternoon tea?"

"Croissants today," he confirms, the corners of his eyes wrinkling a little. His eyes are still sleepy, but they're starting to glint. "Strawberry jam. Other stuff that Celery made. God only knows what spell she cast." He smoothes a hand over Andy's ribs, then counts back up a few with soft fingertips. "I saved you some."

Andy sinks her teeth into her bottom lip. She feels stupidly pleased. (Ridiculously horny as well. Being this close to Sam has always induced a Pavlovian kind of response out of her). "We can split it for breakfast."

Sam shakes his head, keeps petting a hand down her side. "The croissant is all yours. I'll have some toast."

Andy leans in and kisses him for his efforts. They've had breakfast together every morning since he woke up. Hospital visiting hours, or not. Andy thinks maybe it's not just the past that's helping to create the ritual, but also their hopes for the (as yet) unspoken of future.

Sam puts a warm hand on her cheek, keeps her face close to his so he can kiss her again. It's longer and deeper this time; his tongue licking all the way in, familiar…just like the way he used to kiss her while he'd have a hand down her pants.

He pulls away only a millimeter after he's been successful in working Andy the rest of the way into a state. "Can have my toast too if you want," he says around a grin she can feel.

"Maybe not," she laughs, lips brushing his as she hints to get him to kiss her like _that _again. She nudges her thigh up between his legs a little further, still very careful, but less patient than the days before this. She's not high enough yet to feel what she wants, but she's headed that way. "You need all the energy you can get." She almost pokes out her tongue; tucks it back in when she realizes it would've licked a stripe on Sam's lips.

"What on earth would I need energy for, McNally?" Sam's tone takes on a whole new level of playful that she's missed a lot since...well, since they broke up. He slides a hand back down her side and gently grabs her behind, squeezing the fleshier part once, twice.

"Oh, I dunno," she sasses, unwilling to let him make her start blushing. "Maybe your workouts with that exercise ball?"

Sam laughs softly again.

Andy likes the noise so much she'd like to roll around in it. Preferably naked.

"Noelle bought it over. She thought I could do with a bounce." His grin is still close enough to Andy's lips for her to feel the full shape. She'd like to take a good, hard look at it, only that would mean they were too far apart.

They're both laughing now. Just quietly. Maybe a little bit wrapped up in one another and how nice this is.

"I can see it now," Andy teases, thigh going higher still, _almost_ rubbing into his groin. "You riding the ball in front of the TV and John Wayne."

Sam clenches his legs around hers, pushes his hips in a downward motion to give her the answer she wants. "You know me so well," he mutters, tugging at her backside until she's flush up against him. He proceeds by ducking his head and kissing her again. This one is hard on the mouth, incessant, Sam _taking_ her like it's the first time again.

Andy gives as good as she gets for a long while, holding on to him as gently as can. It's a futile effort though, she can't help but grip tighter and tighter into the flesh of his biceps. Her hips stutter too, knocking against his, pretty much demanding to be let in…like that night of the blackout so long ago.

Finally, when the worry of hurting him takes over her brain, Andy breaks to suck in some air. "Should we…" she starts, sounding a little light-headed. "I mean…the doctor said to take things slow…"

(She was there when the rules were handed down. Slow might mean 'some' types of exertion shouldn't be done for at least a few weeks -

She also saw the expression on the surgeon's face when he caught the look Sam was giving Andy.)

"I _am_ taking things slow," Sam argues, incessantly kissing along the line of her jaw. Both of his hands have gone to the top half of her shirt.

"It's only been a few days," Andy retorts, feebly. She's really not very good at debating the matter, is already clutching at Sam's waistband and attempting to yank his sweats down.

Sam stills. "Longer'n that," he snorts, sliding his hands down to the hem of her t-shirt and tugging it up. He gets a little desperate when it doesn't come off easily, and his body is maybe already being stretched to its max. He reaches up and pulls her forehead to his, whispers right on her lips; "Missed you today."

Andy rests there for a second, breaths coming hard after she has somehow managed to get his sweats part the way down. She chances a quick look down between them. Her hand is pretty close to his groin, and he's a whole lot more naked than she's seen in a while. "Missed you too," she croaks, eventually.

Sam skims a hand down her back, attempts another tug on her shirt to get it all the way off.

"Wait," Andy stutters, managing to free herself from his hold and get up on her knees. She watches on as Sam rolls onto his back, frustrated and a little helpless. Andy thinks maybe he's read the situation the wrong way. "No…I mean. Just…let me get it?"

He looks up at her, eyes gone very dark. For a second Andy thinks he might apologize; the way he's always been so take-charge in bed, and how he can't exactly control anything right now. But then he smiles small. "Just don't rough me up _too_ much, okay?"

Andy laughs brightly, thinking back on all those times they both got demanding and frantic, leaving scratches and marks. "Oh, I'll be gentle, Swarek," she teases, feeling confident in her own abilities now that he's not right up in her space. "At least for tonight."

Sam's grin grows bigger. So does his erection from what Andy can tell.

She'd like to rush to that part, just slide down on top of him, bury him someplace deeper than she's had him before –

Only, no way does she want Sam to end up in hospital again. Andy really has to get a grip on herself -

"But you have to promise me that you'll tell me if it starts to hurt…" she warns, static firing through her hair as she finishes with the task of her shirt.

Sam is raking his eyes up and down her torso by the time she's on to the zip of her jeans. She arches her back a little, allowing him a view of some angles that she remembers he had a thing for…before…

"I'll tell you," he nods. Although, by the look on his face, Andy suspects that what he might end up telling her will have nothing to do with any pain he starts to feel.

She jumps off the bed to get her jeans the rest of the way off, taking the blanket with her. Her jeans are skinny and tight, so it takes a long wrestle to get the things off.

"You're killin' me here, McNally," Sam smirks, eyes trawling the length of her legs.

They both freeze for a second, eyes catching one another's. Andy's are struck with panic, Sam's with some lust.

He blinks, shakes his head. "Too soon?"

"Yes, too soon," she snorts, her emotions getting stripped down as well. She spends a long while just staring into his eyes, thinking of all the times she's lost him, almost lost him, or just hasn't had him. Some tears spring into her eyes. She knows it was a joke, she knows he's okay. Even knows that _they're_ on the road to recovery. No turning back.

But.

"Sam. You were almost dead," Andy breathes out, almost punctuating the sentence with hiccups. But, now that she's on a roll, all of the things that once upon a time Andy would've had tumbling around in her head are now said to Sam; "And things were horrible, and what if sex causes irreparable damage…what if you're not ready for this? What if we're not ready for this? What if that whole _the love of my life nearly died and wow, I'm really glad you're alive_ thing is what's rushing everything here? What if we should just go and have a warm cup of milk instead? Talk about a few things we haven't talked about yet? Then go back to sleep? Sam," Andy sucks in some air. "I don't want to be riding in an ambulance with you again, okay?"

Sam's eyes go minutely wider than they were before Andy started her rant. He tries to crank himself to a position where he's upright, but appears to backtrack on that, probably because it hurts a little…

Which manages to get Andy even more concerned than before. "Sam," she barks, cop mode and all, climbing back onto the bed to fluff his pillows and help him lean back. "I'm serious, okay?" She runs a shaky hand over his cheek. "I _want_ you, okay. I want _us_…but the sex can wait."

Sam takes a hold of her wrist, tugging her with him gently until she's far enough down to hide her face in his neck. "Okay…Andy…it's okay," he murmurs into the top of her skull, voice vibrating through her whole being. He strokes a hand down her back, fingertips counting the vertebrae of her spine. He does that for minutes, until she can feel their heartbeats in synch -

"Warm milk, huh?" he says, eventually, hand massaging nicely over and around her hip.

Andy laughs into his collarbone, gives it a nip.

He squeezes, gives her a kiss on the top of the head. He talks quietly then, lulling Andy into a completely relaxed state. His fingers draw small circles on the base of her back as he tells her about what he sees in their future -

At first, he's teasing a little; telling her about how much make-up sex they'll be having when the doctor gives the green light – even tells her a few of those things in very specific, graphic detail…like maybe he's been thinking about them for a while. But slowly his voice gets more serious. "We'll make up on other lost ground too. Pick apart our pasts, go on vacations, tell one another whatever the hell we're thinking at any moment in time…"

It's not until Andy is fighting against sleep; curled up, arm wrapped across him again and so warm she could melt on his chest, that his voice goes the most gentle and careful she's ever heard it though. "One day, not too far away, we'll be married. We'll have five kids…"

"Five?" Andy grins, one eye popping open to look up at him. She would've thought maybe three. But who is she to argue with about having a tribe of Sam's kids?

"Yeah, five," he smiles back at her. "I want a park-full of our babies, okay?" He pinches at her hip. "And when we're ancient, I want a whole heap of our grandkids hanging about our yard as well."

Andy reaches up and takes hold of his jaw. Basically begs for a kiss.

Sam gives her what she's after, putting his lips to hers softly.

Andy continues to hum as he scoots a careful hand into the cotton underwear that didn't come off with her jeans.

_End._


End file.
